"The Loose Weave in the Fabric" part 5: culmination

Tiber: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH....ahh...ah...a-

Irene: calm down, please, Tiber...

Tiber: You! How can you speak?!

Irene: because I have vocal cords.

Tiber: no, you didn’t speak before! You have never spoken in 50 years, how can you speak now?

Irene: Shut up! Or do I have to sedate you?

Tiber: why would you sedate me? I am dead, right?

Irene: no, you are not.

Tiber: what is happening? Where am I? This is not a palace, it’s a dungeon. Please kill me if I am not already dead. I do not wish to live anymore. Please, please! You have to let me die! PLEASE! KILL ME! NOW! DEATH IS NOT WORSE THAN WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH!  KILL MEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Irene: calm down Tiber!

Tiber: NO! YOU HAVE TO DESTROY ME! PLEASE! Please! For your god’s sake, please...*sobbing*

Irene: you should be proud of yourself! You are one of the few people to survive Dr. Orson McLane’s famous Doomsday Solace simulation. It was said that those who survive this simulation learn the true meaning of life, that they learn what the purpose of ‘us’ is.

Tiber: *sobbing* purpose of life...huh *scoffs*...are you toying with me even at this point in time? Did you think I would be that naive? So, do you want to know what the meaning of life is? At this moment, for me, it is being dead. I will live if I die. I want to DIE.

Irene: Tiber! Well, because of your awe inspiring hippocampus, I decided not to disclose the more tedious details to you, but as the case so turns out to be, I have to. Listen. There was a great neuroscientist called Orson McLane. He had a tremendous hypothalamus; brain scans show that most of his brain activity was concentrated on his hypothalamus and cerebellum. You might not understand it because of your limited scientific knowledge...

Tiber: I was a scientist for 15 years; I think I know a few things about brains and whatnot.

Irene: No, you weren’t. It was all in the simulation. If you were, you can prove it to me by telling me the exact speed of light, go on.

Tiber: I know that, it’s...it’s...ahhhhh...it rudimentary knowledge, why can’t I remember that? Is it 34898 miles per hour?

Irene: Wrong again, its 2, 99,792,458 m/s. See, you even have the facts wrong, Tiber, this is what a simulation does to you, isn’t it? Well, Dr. McLane found a way to link your brain into a computer in association with my father, Ian Redding, and started programming simulations into the computer, fed directly into the subject’s, no offence, neural interface directly. Slowly and steadily, he developed a simulation he called the Doomsday Solace simulation, to which you were subjected to. It turned out to be a major scientific development. After sometime, subjects began to die in the simulation, and hence lost their minds in the real world. You and five others haven’t and you are the last one on the list, it is awesome. So, anyway, the DSS (short for doomsday solace simulation, as you may have guessed) is tested for a period of 50 years on a single subject, while his mind is automatically preserved and somewhat his neuron activity increased, his body is preserved by the use of WISPS, The Wulf-Imlauer Somatic Preservation System, developed in 2018 by Albrecht Wulf and Adrian Imlauer, so anyway, the simulation projects your consciousness into a world where there is no life, deleting all your memory, while your brain fills the blanks with whatever explanation it has cooked up. The first half an hour is this process, rebooting your brain according to what it wants to be, amazing? Yeah. Then it just leaves you in a near perfect map of the world to do whatever you please. It was initially developed to experiment upon the ability of the brain to create new memories to complete apparent pre-existing memories which was an empty world in the simulation’s case. Most people lose their minds,  you didn’t, that says that your brain has a very overactive imagination, I suppose. So, do you have any questions?

Tiber: What? You are lying. This can’t be true.

*door opens and closes*

Ian: Irene, what are you doing to subject...uh...343?

Irene: Nothing, dad...

Ian: you have succesfully confused his brain utterly, and told him he as he knows it doesn’t exist. Does that feel like nothing to you?!

Irene: I am sorry, dad, I got carried away...so sorry.

Ian: get out, it’s time.

Irene: okay, I’ll just leave...*whispering* Tiber, be strong, this is not who you are. You are the greatest nobody in the history of the world.

Tiber: what...what is happening? Will I not die?

*Door opening and closing*

                                                                                        

Ian: Tiber, you are pretty much alive, and you are now gifted with longevity. Keep calm, and let us follow protocol, you’ll be okay.

Tiber: what is happening? This can’t be true... did I not discover a way to negate mass?

Ian: No, you did not, it was all a ploy. You need to go to sleep. All will be clear when you wake up. Good Night.

Tiber: but you have to promise me, I will see her when I wake.

Ian: that’s the whole point, Erebus, the whole point.

It has been 50 years since I have been awake in this world with no people. Nothing exists anymore. It’s all a lie. I can see her now, the one who vowed to take me away to the palace within the ground, where all damned souls go to die. Now she can speak, and she wants to take me away. The place is called Prometheus. What now exists, is a not a mystery but truth. I was finally going to die.

"The Loose Weave in the Fabric" part 4

What are we? “Dust.”

And that’s all I have to say. We belong nowhere, we are no one and just walking bone covered with flesh and resuscitated with innate nudges of electricity. We go nowhere and we aren’t meant to go anywhere, but to Hell, for ever being even alive, and that’s our only sin. No other thing can bring you down from grace and fell you to purgatory. There are no seven sins or seven redemptions or seven anything, just you. And you go to hell for living. That is what religion is about. Priests, pastors, preachers, saints, they all have the same ultimate sermon, that we die; and if “thou shalt follow”, you go to heaven, and if not, you go to hell. That is half true for me, because I will only go to hell, no heaven.

I have truly lived, not like any other human being that existed before me, or shall exist after, because I am immortal only to the point where I decide to die. I will probably follow Her into Her palace within the ground.

Hell is within the ground, and the ground is of dust. And from dust we arise and to dust we perish. That is the truth.

An ascetic is blissful and peaceful because he knows the truth, and he is grateful to be graced with that resuscitating spark of electricity. He is happy for being alive, and being alive is our only sin. To revel in sin is our only meditation and it is our only purpose. In the end we are to wither and become what we already are – dust. Nothing we shall ever be can change this. Because we don’t matter, we are nothing, just the scum of the earth, a mistake to be pondered upon.

I am in hell, and I love it. I have revelled in my sins. I have meditated in my own twisted sense. I have achieved what Buddha did – ‘Nirvana’, albeit in my own twisted sense. I turned necrophile for the mutilation I made Kyoko into, a masterpiece in its own right, and now, there exists nothing. Again, I have revelled in sins, and I truly celebrated.

“Sumus nostrum sua demonus”

We have our own demons.

It is time I exorcise mine.

All I have to say is that I am not mad, but I am about to do what a marooned man does – killing myself.

I still have that knife from Düsseldorf, and this is my suicide recording. Goodbye mortal plane, here I come, lovely hell.

I will be a monster I suppose.

She smiles upon me, she laughs at me and she kisses me.

And I close my eyes to rest in a glorious sepulchre of loneliness in suspension.

And I drive my knife into my skull, and she is wailing.

At last I know who she is –

“A Beautiful Death”

I have consorted with her.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ah ah ahahaahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeee- - -”

And hence, I awake.

"The Loose Weave in the Fabric" part 3

You might be wondering whatever it was that I did in the last 50 years. What I did is what a man marooned on a desolate island does. He waits and hunts for sustenance, until he goes mad and shoots himself with that one bullet and single gram of gunpowder he was given to do it. Trust me, I am not mad, I am completely and inherently sane, and I sure as hell am not just about to shoot myself out of it. I have looked far and wide for Kyoko but no, I have always found her, that infernal being that is always offering to ferry me across the chasm called afterlife into an eternity of torment. I think that she has offered me another choice as well, to be her agent, a catalyst to give her what is hers in the currency of the reaper- souls. To tell the truth, I think I have even lost my love to Kyoko, and started loving her, no, adoring her. Imagine adoring someone that is here only to take you away to your sepulchre.

And I think I know why she is here with me – because I am the last living thing with a soul on planet earth. I love her now, and she is going to stay with me forever in this desolation.

All I’ve written now is in the language of a religious man, a superstitious man, which I was not, before the Folly. I guess people become that way in isolation.  I was once a man with everything there was, and now I have only a single knife, a notebook, charcoal and her with me. Such is the condition when love’s labour is lost. Laugh is what I am supposed to do now, shuffle lewdly towards an end I know not, and she is here to guide me through this labour of love.

I’ve read, and only read because there is no way to test this, that people go mad in isolation and go haywire to destroy everything they see. All my existing life before the Folly, I realize, I had been in isolation. Nope, you read that right. I was isolated before a universal isolation. In the last few years of my life I realized that no person came to me and talked, and they just wanted to keep their distance from me, well, guess what? Fuck them. I say Hell take you, bastards, and spit you back to die again. This is a testimony forged in what is pain not felt. Society is an illusion that the intelligent maggots called humans developed to restrain a social mind from falling apart. We don’t need society to live freely and enjoying life. We are happy aren’t we, my love?

She never speaks, ever. Well, that is how it is. Wonder how you people still live after all that has happened when you were not. To hell with that! So yes, it will be safe to say that I am no longer alive if you are reading a transcript of this or listening to the original or a copy of this recording. This is an update: I am a religious man now. The church did well to kill my parents, fucking pair of faggots. Well, I don’t pity any of them; they go to hell for a thousand sins. I am ashamed to call such an unnatural pairing my filial generation. I will be going to hell as well probably, for being alive longer than which is natural.

I found Kyoko yesterday. She was basking in the glory of midnight sun in Norway. I went to her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned around and smiled as warmly as she could at me. I cried a lot afterwards.

“Hello, my love”, she said.

“It’s been long”, I sobbed.

“Yes it has. I’m glad that you are safe and still faithful to me”, she said.

“I’m afraid you are deceived”, I regained my composure and said “I have found her.” I pointed in her direction.

“Who are you talking about?” asked Kyoko.

“Her”, I answered, “She’s right there, can’t you see her?”

“Who are you talking about? There is no one there!” she said, exasperated.

“Well you can play your little games forever, but she says hi, and that she is soon going to take you into her underground palace...”said I.

“What? Okay, will you just calm down please! You are scaring me more than what’s possible!” she said and laughed meekly.

“Oh let it be!” I exclaimed “let’s go to sleep”

“Yes, let’s”

So, now she’s sleeping soundly in a nook under a boulder by the fire. I still have the knife from Düsseldorf with me, and I am debating on listening to Her or not. She whispers in my ear to carve out my wife’s long forlorn face and eat some meat for the first time in 50 years.

Good night, reader.

I have done it. I have successfully destroyed my wife’s face. I am laughing hysterically like a maniac! It was so exhilarating and winding and extraordinary! I destroyed the one link in my past. First, I cut her mouth open into a hideous ear-to-ear grin, then I gauged her eyes out with the handle of the knife to make it more painful, I then carved 50 tally marks on her face to show the 50 long years she hid from me in this dismal world. I lay bare her bosom, and ripped open her torso from the neck down to the genitals and tied her up in her own intestines; I burned her then so that she could never see Heaven and be condemned straight to hell!

 And do you know what? I am not remorseful. All I did was for my own good. Being selfish is a survival instinct, and I have embraced it to the brim! And also, I am not responsible for her death; I have just done what I was told!

By her!

It’s so sweet in this world in the middle of the night when the unnatural rays of a midnight sun shine upon your masterpiece. It is the first time that I have done this unholy but redemptive deed, and I might do it again...

I ask myself only this at this moment-

“Why is dawn so beautiful in a moment where the sun never set?”

And now, it’s time for a feast to glorify the ominous dawn!